


What Do You Get For the Man Who Can Conjure Anything?

by starhawk2005



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Frottage, Het, Lapdance, Smut, crack!fic-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 21:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Loki’s birthday, and Darcy has NO idea what to get for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do You Get For the Man Who Can Conjure Anything?

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: As always, canyr12 has generously given her time and wisdom, to make sure this isn’t total crap. *gives brownies*  
> Disclaimer: Not mine. Can I get them from mail-order?
> 
> Note: This is a gift-ficlet for sigridhr on Livejournal, who made me some snazzy Loki/Jane icons. Her prompt was: Loki/Darcy pairing, with frottage.

It’s Loki’s birthday in a week, and Darcy is driving herself crazy trying to figure out what to get him.

_What do you get for the man who has everything? Try ‘what do you get for the man who can_ conjure _anything’. I am_ so _screwed._

Jane is no help whatsoever. “I’m not any good at shopping for men, either, remember? Didn’t we have this same discussion at Thor’s last birthday, except _I_ was the one asking?”

Darcy rolls her eyes and blows on her coffee to cool it. “It’s so fucking unfair. Men have it easy when it comes to shopping for us. Flowers, chocolate, perfume, soaps.” She waves a hand in exasperation.

Jane nods. “You know, I think I heard somewhere that men actually _like_ getting flowers-“

The mental image of Loki holding a bouquet of red roses – from her – just makes Darcy want to giggle. She can just imagine the look on his face, Mr. Bigshot Asgardian God, holding a little cluster of what he’ll probably think are weeds. Forget _that._

Since talking to Jane proved useless, Darcy decides to go with Plan B. She corners Thor one afternoon, five days before the big day. “What should I get Loki for his birthday? C’mon, give me some intel, Thor, he’s _your_ brother.”

Thor shrugs, frowning. “In Asgard, we would celebrate a birthday with feasting and dancing. Take him out to dinner, Darcy.”

Darcy rolls her eyes. Was Thor even _listening_ to her? “I’m already doing that. I need a _gift_ idea!”

Thor rubs his chin and looks thoughtful. “In the past, I have made things for him. Once, there was this dagger that I pounded into shape on the forge with Mjölnir-“ 

“I have trouble making pancakes without burning them, so forget _making_ anything,” Darcy interrupts. Panic is starting to set in. Christ, what is she going to do?

Thor comes over and puts a comforting hand on her arm. “Truly, Darcy, I think you are over-complicating things. I am sure a nice meal and a…” Here Thor hesitates, clearly choosing his words carefully, “an _intimate_ evening at home, just the two of you, will suffice.”

Darcy throws her hands up in the air in frustration, startling Thor. “Um, around our place, we call that ‘Saturday night’. Actually, _most_ nights. Your brother’s got quite the sex drive-“

Thor cuts her off with an uncomfortable laugh, “Enough, Darcy,” he interrupts. But then he smiles a little slyly. “I am sure you can think of something new and unexpected, to make it an evening worthy of remembrance.”

It surprises her, coming from Thor, but maybe he’s got a point. 

*~*~*

Five days later, the four of them have dinner at Loki’s favourite restaurant. Darcy thinks that Thor looks a bit uncomfortable in his suit jacket; if he’s not wearing his Asgardian armour, jeans and tee shirts are apparently his preferred clothing. Jane looks gorgeous in a little black dress that Darcy helped her pick out last month, and Darcy is rocking her own LBD, much to Loki’s obvious approval. Go, her.

Of course, Loki looks suave and comfortable in his suit, with his favourite green, white, and black scarf. _He’d be sexy wearing a potato sack,_ Darcy thinks to herself. She tries not to squirm in her seat, thinking about what might happen later this evening.

Jane and Thor present Loki with two golden bracers after dessert. Darcy’s not surprised to see the motif of two snakes, twisted together, adorning the bright metal. Apparently, that’s going to be a theme tonight.

Loki turns them over in his hands, smiling. “My deepest thanks. Let me guess, Brother, you made them with Mjölnir.” 

“I am predictable that way, it seems.” But Thor smiles.

“What did you get Loki, Darcy?” Jane asks, her anticipation obvious after all the endless discussions.

“Oh, um….it’s a private thing. I’ll give it to you later, okay?” Darcy stammers, trying to avoid looking at Thor’s knowing smirk. Loki raises his eyebrow, obviously trying to read her and Thor’s silent communication, and Darcy squeezes Loki’s hand under the table, hoping this doesn’t backfire horribly.

*~*~*

Jane and Thor say goodbye to them at the front door of Darcy’s apartment, and Darcy grabs Loki’s hand and pulls him quickly in after her. _I better do this quick, before I lose my nerve,_ she thinks. Her hands are shaking ever so slightly.

He’s looking at her suspiciously. “What ails you, Darcy?”

She shakes her head and tries to hide her nervousness. “Nothing, nothing.” She tosses her jacket and purse on the kitchen table, then drags one of the two armless kitchen chairs into the middle of her small living room. There isn’t a lot of space, but it’ll have to do.

Loki is leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her closely. “What are you up to, girl?” _He looks very confused, poor guy. Poor_ god _, I mean,_ Darcy corrects herself.

“Just getting ready!” Darcy says with forced brightness. “You can just take off your jacket and sit here-“ she pats the kitchen chair, “-and I’m gonna go get your birthday gift. It’ll take a little prep work, though, so be patient, OK?” She walks over and gives him a peck on the cheek, and his expression of puzzlement deepens.

Pretending to ignore it, Darcy goes into the bathroom and locks it. Taking a deep  breath, she stares at herself in the mirror. _C’mon, what’s the worst that can happen? I fall flat on my face?_ She shakes her head at herself. 

Under the sink is a bag of items she’d hidden there earlier, and now she pulls it out and unpacks it. Black high heels, black thigh-high nylons and a black garter belt. Also a green push-up bra and matching thong panties in a snakeskin print, both items edged in black lace – it’s not quite the shade of green she associates with Loki, but it was the closest thing she could find.

Darcy strips out of her dress and lays it carefully across the toilet, pulls off her sensible mid-heeled evening shoes and pantyhose, and starts to get dressed again in the new underthings. She pulls the black dress back on, and studies herself critically in the mirror, then pulls her hair out of the messy bun it was in. She flips her head over a few times, going for a disheveled, tousled, sexy look. 

She next pulls her contacts from the medicine cabinet. She only wears them for special occasions, and she figures this qualifies. It’s better if she doesn’t have to worry about her glasses slipping down her nose or flying off her face, or anything annoying like that.

The final touch is topping up her mascara and applying lipstick in a screaming red shade that she bought just for the occasion. _He’d better like this,_ she thinks, trying to psych herself up for this. _Or it’ll be his_ last _birthday_.

That thought makes her smile, despite her shaky legs, and she takes several deep  breaths. She looked up all the information she could on the Internet, watched and rewatched the relevant scene from Death Proof on Youtube a ridiculous number of times, and if it all goes south, well…it’s the thought that counts, right?

_Showtime,_ Darcy thinks. Putting on her best sultry look, she opens the bathroom door and heads back to the living area. _Fake it til you make it, right?_

Loki’s sitting in the chair she indicated, studying the workmanship on one of Thor’s bracers, and whistling tunelessly to himself. Until he spots her, and his eyebrows perform their familiar acrobatics of puzzlement. 

Darcy smiles at him and dims the lights a little, then does her best slow, sultry strut into the room. She’s encouraged when Loki begins to smirk, tossing the bracer onto the couch. He’s quick, her BF, she’ll give him that.

She continues strutting right over to the stereo, where she already has the song queued up and ready to go. It was hard to settle on a decent song, as her tastes run to heavy metal and alternative, but she finally settled on the Tea Party’s ‘Turn the Lamp Down Low’. She’s always felt the song’s got a slinky, sexy feel to it, and all the snake imagery in the lyrics seems especially appropriate, given who she’s about to perform for.

The guitars start, and Darcy, still facing away from Loki, rolls her hips lazily to the music, until the drum-beat kicks in.

_Turn the lamp down low,  
 Baby shelter me_

Mouthing the words to herself, she moves her hips to the beat, smoothing her hands slowly down the sides of her dress, and she looks back over her shoulder at Loki. 

His eyes follow the caressing movements of her hands, and then come up to meet her gaze. Oh yes, he knows what’s coming. He sits back a bit in the chair, a sultry look of his own crossing his face. 

_Turn the lamp down low,  
Baby please don’t go_

Darcy’s heart is racing, but she tells herself it’s more excitement than nerves. Better be. Still facing away from him, she sticks her ass out a bit more, holding the bottom of her dress and slowly shifting it up bit by bit, until he can see the tops of her stockings.

“Such a naughty girl you are proving tonight, my dear,” he drawls, green eyes alight. 

Darcy turns slowly around to face him, toying now with the straps of her dress. “Do you want me to take this off, birthday boy?” 

“Oh yes, I most certainly do,” he purrs. He’s running the palm of one of his hands slowly in a circle over his own knee. Darcy doesn’t think he’s even aware that he’s doing it.

Feeling a little more confident, since Loki is obviously enjoying the show, Darcy slowly lowers herself to her knees, then goes down on all fours, crawling slowly towards him, putting on her best sex kitten look.

_ Do you see the serpent dancing,  
as it sheds its skin _

Once she’s almost close enough to touch him, Darcy rolls her head slowly, flipping her hair around, feeling the ends of it brush against his pants leg. She slowly stands up again, the heat in his gaze encouraging her to sweep the straps of her LBD aside and down. “Yessss,” he encourages her, watching her slowly shimmy from side to side, pulling on the dress until it pools on the floor. Darcy kicks it aside, keeping her eyes on his as she bends over, placing her hands on his thighs and being sure to give him a nice view of her cleavage. He licks his lips, taking in the show, and Darcy feels her nipples tightening and tingling. _Later,_ she tells herself _. It’s all about the tease, remember?_

So when his hands reach towards her, she stops him, grasping his wrists and placing them gently down by his sides. “Uh-uh! No touching the dancers at this club, Mr. Mischief.”

“How unfortunate….for both of us,” Loki pouts, his gaze positively smouldering. Darcy smiles at him and smoothes her hands down his thighs, moving towards his knees, and then pushes them apart. He makes a noise and shifts a bit in the chair, sliding lower. She can almost see the pulse in his throat racing. It makes her confidence feel more real, makes it feel like less of an act. If she’s not mistaken, this is really starting to turn her on, too.

_ Do you see the spirits stirring,  
as you close your eyes _

She carefully places the ball of her foot on the chair between his spread thighs, almost close enough for the toe of her shoe to touch the now obvious bulge in his dress pants, and Loki lets out an almost inaudible gasp. She strokes her own thigh, lightly, both of them watching as she traces the strap of the garter and the top of the stocking, and then she runs her hand down towards her knee. Her knee is almost right in his chest, so she lets her hand continue past her knee and reach out to his body, and she traces her fingertips just along the edge of his open collar, avoiding skin contact.

His adam’s apple bobs. “A snakeskin pattern,” Loki observes, a little hoarsely. “In _my_ colours. How appropriate.”

“I thought you would like it,” Darcy smirks back.

She pulls her foot off the chair and fists her hand in the collar of his shirt, leaning in slowly for a kiss. The corner of his mouth quirks and he leans forward slightly, the anticipation evident even as his eyes drop to eye her exposed cleavage again. _Perv_ , Darcy thinks, grinning inwardly.

Except at almost the last possible moment, Darcy pulls away. Just the barest brush of her red lips on his, and that’s all she’s giving him, for now.

He’s onto the game, chuckling quietly and watching her with narrowed, amused eyes as she sways as seductively as she can, walking around his chair and letting her hand trail lightly along his shoulder, until she gets to the end of it. 

_ Turn the lamp down low,  
Baby please don't go _

She circles leisurely around behind him, letting her fingertips trail lightly back the way they had just come, except this time she slides her fingers behind his neck and into his thick black hair, squeezing a fistful of it as she passes. Darcy is _so_ glad she convinced him long ago to stop overusing the hair gel. The first few times she tried to run her fingers through that mane of his? _So_ not pretty.

He leans back a little into her touch, but just as quickly Darcy slips her fingers out of his hair and runs them along his other shoulder, her free hand stroking down her own throat and along her collarbone, his eyes moving to watch the show.

Her next move is to stop in front of him, her back to him, and at first it’s easier not to look at him, the self-consciousness trying to return as she winds her hips slowly to the music and shakes her ass, running her hands down over the skin bared by the thong, and trying to imagine that they’re _Loki’s_ hands. That helps quite a bit. He sounds like he’s starting to breathe heavily, too, and that helps a bit more. She looks back over her shoulder at him, and he’s watching the motions of her hands _very_ intently and looking a little dazed, one hand clenched into a fist and the other rubbing slowly along the top of his pants leg again. He looks like a man barely in control of himself, a serpent coiled and ready to strike, to pounce on her. It’s making her wet, just watching his reaction. Watching what she is doing to him. _That_ helps quite a lot.

Darcy shimmies and shakes her way backwards carefully, forcing Loki to spread his legs even more as she settles herself into his lap, with slow short side-to-side movements of her hips. He tenses, and his hands start to come up again, so she grabs them. “Bad boy,” she purrs, leaning all the way back against him and laying her head back on his shoulder, continuing to grind her ass against him. 

His  breath is like fire against her cheek. “Hmm,” he says. “I thought you enjoyed it when I was bad, Darcy.” His lips brush against her skin, but Darcy decides to let that go, closing her eyes and leaning into him, always continuing that slow grind of her hips. His pants are a little scratchy against her bare skin, but she decides she enjoys the sensation. That, and the fact it feels like there’s a curved rod made of steel, pressing insistently against her. _Is that a dagger in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?_

“Oh, I do. Believe me. But we wouldn’t want you to get _ejected_ from the club, now, would we? That would _suck_. But here, if you let me drive, I’m sure the bouncer would be OK with it.” She’s still holding his hands, so she guides them to her hips, letting his hands caress her there in small circular motions, though she’s in control. 

_ Do you hear the souls a-screaming  
in the serpent’s mesh _

_ OK, this is maybe not the most _ romantic _song,_ Darcy decides, but it doesn’t seem to bother him, so she won’t stress it. She guides his hands up to caress her  breasts through the bra, biting her own lip as her nipples start to tingle again. She wonders just how wet her thong is right now. She guides his hands down again, along her sides and back down to her hips, and then pushes his hands lightly off to his sides again. She’s getting ready for the most challenging move she’s planned for this little private show.

She turns sideways, still in his lap, sliding a hand up to wrap around the back of Loki’s neck, and she lifts the leg closest to him, bracing the heel of her shoe on the seat of his chair. _Here goes nothing,_ she thinks. She lets herself fall slowly backwards, holding tight to the back of his neck, leaning back as far as she dares. It helps to feel his hand move under her back, splayed out, supporting her with no problem, but it still feels like she’s going to topple over and land on her head any second.

At the last second she remembers to bring her free hand up, running it through her hair and then down the side of her face, over her mouth and down her neck, over a breast, caressing herself the way she hopes he will later. She moves her hand even further down, finally ending the caress at mid-thigh, and then she pulls herself back up, turning to face him. 

His pupils are so dilated, that his eyes look nearly black. “You are a woman of many talents, my Darcy,” he growls.

“I try,” she says, smirking at him. She gets up off his lap, letting her hand trail down his shoulder and arm, and gives his hand the lightest of squeezes before she turns and walks away from him, but she only goes a step or two away. She doesn’t know about him, but she’s not sure how much more of this tease _she_ can take.

_ Don't you see your own reflection,  
in the serpent's eye?  _

She turns to face him again, smiling archly at the expression on his face, like he wants to devour her. She goes back to him and goes to her knees in front of him, then slides herself slowly upwards, rubbing herself against his legs and between them. She ends up straddling him, facing him, pressing herself against the heated bulge between his legs. Darcy starts moving against  him, slowly up and down, swallowing her own gasp at the friction of her clit against his hardness through two layers of fabric.

“I think I want to change the rules at this club,” Darcy finally says, her voice getting its own hoarse note. 

“Please do,” Loki rasps back, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists by his sides. The strain in his voice couldn’t be more obvious.

“Touch me,” she whispers in his ear, taking his hands and guiding them to her  breasts, before she lets go and hangs onto his shoulders. He can take the wheel now, at least partially, and he doesn’t waste any time. He squeezes her nipples sharply through the cloth, and she lets herself gasp out loud this time, letting her forehead rest against the top of his head.

She keeps on rubbing against him, grinding herself on him, and the friction is too delicious to stop. He’s moving too, moving with her, and Darcy can feel sweat running down her sides, can practically see the heat radiating off both of them in ripples.

_ Turn the lamp down low,  
Baby please don't go _

He leans forward and nips at her through the bra, the fingertips of his other hand teasing the other nipple, rubbing the fabric in small circles around her sensitive skin, and Darcy lets her head roll back, moving faster and faster against him.

He presses his face in between her breasts, his hand slipping down her belly, then sliding between their bodies to press hard against her clit through her panties. He says something in Old Norse that Darcy doesn’t understand, but Darcy can imagine what it must mean; her panties are so damp that they are practically stuck to her like glue. That’s OK, that just adds to the sensation as Loki’s palm cups her, the heel of his hand rubbing her hard, chafing her in the most sensuous of ways, and all in time to the frantic thrusting movements of her hips.

He shoves the fabric aside finally a few moments later, his hot skin sliding against her slick, throbbing skin, then he’s pushing fingers into her. The music is reaching a climax, and so is she. His palm kneads her clit, and his teeth sink into her collarbone, and she’s coming so hard that her vision washes out in spangles and flashes.

The music has ended and it’s quiet, except for her panting  breaths. Loki’s hand is on her back, stroking her hot, damp skin, and his other hand is still between her legs, cradling her. When she looks up, he’s grinning from ear-to-ear, with a side order of evil leer. She’s seen that look before, and at a guess, this night is far from over. Lucky her!

“Your turn, birthday boy,” she purrs.

He laughs, full-bodied and deep, and stands, scooping her up effortlessly. “I think you mean, birthday _god_ , do you not?”

“Whatever you say,” Darcy agrees. Usually she snarks at him for that sort of thing, but hey, it’s his birthday, right? “Where are you taking me, by the way?”

“To bed, of course,” he growls into her ear. “It seems to me that the best way to end your performance is for me to fuck you senseless.”

She loves how pretty curse words sound, coming from him. “Oh yeah, big boy, talk dirty to me.”

He carries her into the bedroom.    

*~*~*

Darcy wants to purr like a contented cat. She’s been ‘fucked senseless’ not once, but twice, and Loki has also put that talented (in so many ways) tongue to good use against her sweet spot in between. She’d reminded him at one point that it was his birthday, and he should be the one to get blown, but he’d insisted that was what he wanted, and if so, who was she to argue?

“I guess you liked your birthday gift?” she asks sleepily.

“Indeed. Happy Birthday to me,” Loki says, gloatingly.

Darcy smiles to herself, already thinking idly about what to do for an encore _next_ year.  

 

 


End file.
